


Found

by ixamxleigh



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cullen critical, Disabled Character of Color, Drowning, Family Feels, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, magical medical procedures, medically accurate descriptions of bodily damage, solas critical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixamxleigh/pseuds/ixamxleigh
Summary: To save the rebelling mages and shaken civilians of Kirkwall, Miriam Hawke runs south with the former Arishok himself, a Tal-Vashoth who has taken to calling himself "Araas". The two have developed an unshakeable comradery and tentative romance since their battle years ago. So many strange things had happened to them since she'd spared him, surely nothing could phase them now.Nothing except finding a half-drowned Qunari teenager washed up on the Storm Coast, perhaps.This is the story of Hissera.
Relationships: Arishok/Female Hawke, Female Inquisitor/Iron Bull, Iron Bull/Female Trevelyan, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's one GINORMOUS shout-out to the brilliant and gracious Zee at bzrcdragons942.tumblr.com for beta reading and providing some top tier advice on this fic <3<3<3

Pain encompassed her, a bruising, choking feeling that left her feeling as though she’d been stoned. 

It was in her legs, her arms, her _head,_ but the worst of it was in her _chest_. 

She wanted to breathe, to open her eyes, but something was forcibly pounding at her ribs, agitating the pain she was experiencing.

_“Come on, come on!”_

The pounding stopped briefly and something was pushed into her mouth. 

Her lungs expanded, and she realized that whatever was stopping her from breathing, from opening her eyes, was _inside of her._

A cough and seawater forced its way up her throat, and someone rolled her onto her side just in time for the rest of it to spew from her mouth and nose.

_“That’s it. Cough it up kid. That kelp in your lungs isn’t doing you any favors.”_

Awareness flooded her as whoever was beside her patted her back while she finished coughing.

She’d been swimming for her life, but the raging waters of the Waking Sea had been too much for her, and she’d gone under. Now, staring at the stones immediately in front of her nose, it seems that she’d made it to shore.

She shifted so that her clawed hands were under her while she raggedly caught her breath. The rain came down in sheets, pelting every inch of her, nearly drowning out the voices on either side of her. A hand was still rubbing gently circles on her back, helping to ease her back into the world of the living. Something was sniffing incessantly at her ear and horns, letting out a low whine.

“Hey, help me sit her up.”

The hands had a voice that was feminine and familiar, and were soon joined by a much larger pair . Clawed, like her own.

Another Qunari.

Now upright, the girl took in what she could of her surroundings. There were two figures in front of her; one was human sized, and the other much larger and definitely the Qunari. The human had tanned skin that blurred into black hair, and jagged armor. The Qunari was grey, the darker tone, white hair, great sweeping horns, and a red tint to their skin, setting them apart from the sky. Behind them, everything was varying shades of grey. The sky was a light grey, the ground a somewhat darker grey, and on her right she could hear the sea that’d miraculously spit her out.

A third figure pushed in between the first two, pushing a wet nose against hers, revealing itself to be a very concerned mabari. Its wet fur was a solid, dark grey in color, but deep brown eyes searched her own with vigorous curiosity. The dog snuffed at her face, then smiled a canine grin, panting hot air.

“Welcome back!” said the human woman, cheerful but breathless. “You scared us, you know.”

_Where had she heard that voice before?_

She didn’t know how to respond. She squinted, trying to focus her poor vision just enough to gather more information.

“Hey, are you still with us?”

“She is blind, kadan.” spoke the Qunari in another deep, alarmingly familiar voice. “Or severely nearsighted, at the least.”

“Oh shi- really?” The woman leaned forward, entering the Qunari girl’s limited field of vision, and bringing an iconic stripe of blood into startling focus. The girl’s eyes widened with recognition.

“Hawke.”

“Oh hey, you’re right!” 

“She recognises you, though I have not seen her in your company nor within Kirkwall before.” The Qunari leaned in to study her, and the girl was able to see the chiseled features of the _former Arishok himself._

She screamed, flinging her limbs every which way as she scrambled to her feet. She hadn’t connected with anything, so the other two must have gotten out of her range rather quickly. The girl stumbled away, panicked and wild eyed, her bare feet slipping painfully on the cold rocks under her.

“Look what you did!” Hawke shouted at her companion. The mabari whined louder.

The girl kept her arms out to her sides, trying to orient herself. “No! No- This. . . this isn’t happening- it _shouldn’t_ be happening!”

She could hear the subdued clatter of stones as Hawke took a few careful steps towards her, her voice light and casual.

“Don’t worry dear, he has that effect on everyone. But it’s okay. We-”

“No!” the girl shook her head violently, wrapping her arms around herself as the cold beach air finally took hold. 

“I-I’m. . . I’m sorry. . . I’m sorry.” Was she crying now, or was it just the rain? She definitely felt like crying, either way. She was in pain, and cold, and _so lost_. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to meet. . . you’re just- you’re _important_ and I’m just- I can’t be-”

“ _Katoh,_ ” The word was not a harsh order, but a gentle request, and it gave her pause. “ _Imekari kost._ ”

She heard more steps towards her. Larger, spaced further apart than Hawke’s, and sounding closer with each one. The girl faced the figure moving towards her. She stumbled back a few steps until the back of her heal struck a much larger stone. She lost her balance, throwing her arms out to catch herself on anything.

The Tal-Vashoth Arishok caught her by her elbow, lowering her slowly into a sitting position upon the boulder she’d tripped over.

“We’re not going to hurt you, dear.” said Hawke.

The Champion joined the girl on the boulder, while her Tal-Vashoth lover crouched at the startled Qunari’s side. Her Mabari sat itself directly at her feet, laying its head in the girl’s lap.

“I know.” the girl croaked.

“And you know who _we_ are?” asked the former Arishok.

She gave a solemn nod. “She’s Miriam Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall. And you’re- well, you were the Arishok, but now you’re called Araas, right?”

Hawke gave a low whistle, “That’s pretty good. How’d you know?”

The girl wrapped her arms around her, trying to curl in on herself, uncomfortable as she was, speaking softly.

“I know a lot of things that I’m not supposed to.”

Hawke and Araas shared a sideways glance.

“Well _that’s_ cryptic,” Miriam chuckled.

The Mabari gave a low yip, seemingly insulted that it hadn’t yet been included in the introductions. 

“Oh! And this handsome boy here is Bronx. He’s the one who found you.” Hawke rubbed vigorously between the dog’s ears. “But enough about us, how about you? I don’t think you’re Qunari. You’re probably Vashoth, right? What’s your name?”

“I’m Tal-Vashoth, I think. And I don’t have one. . .”

This was met with a deafening silence. If it hadn’t been pouring rain, you could have heard a pin drop.

It was Araas who spoke first.

“You do not. . . have a name? One was never given to you, and you never took one for yourself?”

“I-I’ve never thought about it. The humans that raised me. . . th-they just- they always called me “the girl” or “the Qunari”. . .”

Hawke hissed the word _“bastards”_ between gritted teeth. Araas placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, and Miriam took a very deep breath in through her nose.

“Okay, so, I have a _lot_ of questions. First, where’d you even come fro-”

“Kadan,” Araas interjected. “Perhaps we should get out of the rain first.”

Miriam looked to him, and in turn he looked pointedly at the teenager, who sat shivering between them. She wasn’t wearing much; a wrap to cover her chest, ill fitting pants that were a few sizes too small, and no shoes at all.

“Yeah, let’s do that.” She paused, putting a gentle hand over the girl’s own. 

“Do you want to come with us?”

The young Tal-Vashoth nodded, “Yes, please.”

Maker, she sounded tired. Miriam took the clawed hand into her own, helping the girl up off the rock. Standing next to her, even with her head bowed and shoulders hunched forward, Miriam was nearly a head shorter. Araas towered over them both still, but he’d always been that way.

Miriam traded the girl’s hand for the sack of supplies that Araas carried, shooting him a specific look when he shifted uncomfortably. The girl was. . . _strange_ , to say the least, but they both agreed that she needed their help, and so he conceded. As Hawke shouldered their things, Araas brought the girl’s hands to loop through the crook of his elbow, providing her better support, and with the proximity, a bit of warmth. She smiled smugly at the sight, then set off ahead to find a suitable shelter. 

The going was slow. Even with the added support, the girl slipped and stumbled over the wet and rocky terrain. Hawke would run ahead a few yards, then stop just long enough for the two Tal-Vashoth to appear in her line of sight again. Bronx helped some, running between Miriam, Araas, and the girl, then disappearing into their surroundings.

Miriam huffed, shoving her drenched hair out of her face for the billionth time. If she had to crest one more damn hill only to find flat forest, she’d start tearing the trees from their roots and make a shelter out of that. _With her bare hands too,_ dammit. 

Or better yet, there was _copious_ amounts of blasted Spindleweed around. Surely one could build a shelter out of _that_?

Hawke was about to voice her thoughts and lighten the dreary mood, when a deep baying came from a ridge further up the hillside. She smirked, setting out to find a safe way up for the pair behind her.

At the top of the ridge, they found Bronx, barking at the ruins of an old cabin. Parts of the walls and roof were missing, having rotted away or been blown off in the storms of years past, but what was left made for a functioning lean-to. Miriam knelt down a few yards from it, welcoming her bouncing pooch into her arms as she waited for the rest of their party.

“Good boy!” she laughed, the Mabari wagging his rear end hard enough to nearly bowl them both over. She rubbed her hands furiously on either side of his face, rewarding him justly for his find. No doubt she’d smell like wet dog for a while, but oh well. That’d be Araas’ problem, not hers.

Once they’d caught up, the four of them filed into the relative shelter of the shack. Inside they found one old crate, one old barrel, and a stone floor with weeds forcing their way upwards from between the chiseled cracks. Miriam chose to set their things on the crate, and finding it sturdy enough, patted the edge of it, indicating to Araas that the girl could sit there. She then set the barrel upright, dusting her hands off for show.

“Well then. It’s missing a few homely touches, like drapes and furniture and. . .” she gestured vaguely. “Well, walls, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

The girl giggled as she sat down, but it quickly turned into a harsh, wet cough. At the sound, Bronx whined.

Araas set about wordlessly gathering what little dry wood could be found strewn about them, while Miriam dug through their shared sack of things for the matches.

“So, now that we’re out of the rain,” she began. “Where are you from?”

The girl coughed roughly again, causing Bronx to whine, then said, “Vinnisen. It’s a really small town, in the Vinmarks.”

“Vinnisen in the Vinmarks, huh?” Hawke hummed. “I think Varric could get a lot of mileage out of that.”

“That place is awful. It doesn’t deserve to be in his books.”

“Ah, duly noted.”

Warmth began to spread through the small shelter as Araas finally got the fire going. There was a lot of smoke from the damp wood, but with the gaping holes in the structure, it wouldn’t be much of an issue. He sat on the barrel to the left of them, and Miriam took a seat on the crate beside the girl.

“So how does a girl with no name from Vinnisen wash up on the shores of the Storm Coast?”

At the mention of the ordeal, the girl shifted uncomfortably, the old crate creaking beneath her.

“I was kidnapped by slavers,” she shivered, stifling a cough. “A mob pulled me out of bed, and the next thing I knew I was on their boat. The slavers, they told me that the villagers sold me out for some silver.”

Miriam fought every part of her being telling her to rage, and a glance to Araas told her that he was doing the same. He’d sat up straighter, taking a deep breath. The more this girl spoke, the more she wanted to march back north with her lover and raze that village to the ground, Mage Rebellion be damned. 

Instead, she made a mental note to write a very, _very_ detailed letter to Fenris the second she had the opportunity.

“Then the Breach opened,” the girl continued. “The shockwave almost tipped the boat, and it scared the slavers. They said. . . they said I’d cursed them, so they threw me overboard.”

Hawke lost the battle with herself.

“They _threw you_ into the _Waking Sea_ ?!” She shot to her feet. “Those _krusty spineless motherfu-_ argh! Motherless _bastards_ ! You were _sold?! Why_ would they pay that much for you in the first place, ony to- to-”

The girl turned slightly towards Araas as Miriam paced and vented. Her expression was a mix of confusion, sorrow, and concern, as though she were not used to someone being angry on her behalf.

“It was because you know things you are not supposed to,” he spoke to the girl, stopping Miriam in her enraged tracks. 

“That is why you were betrayed, and why you were abandoned.”

Bronx whined, pushing his snout into her lap as the girl coughed again, nodding through the fit.

“How?” Miriam asked. “How do you know those things?”

The girl turned away from them, turning her face towards the hands folded in her lap. Silence followed as they waited, the crackles and pops of the small fire filling it intermittently. Miriam caught Araas’ glare, knowing that he hadn’t the patience for this sort of dialogue. But the girl was scared, and had been through _a lot_ in the past several hours. Hawke was proud of her lover for being as calm as he was with the girl, and she had the thought that perhaps it had nothing to do with pleasing Miriam.

She sat back down on the crate, close enough to brush shoulders with the girl beside her.

“You know, I’ve seen a _lot_ of really weird things in my life. I’ve gone through the Fade, found a cursed idol of some naked screaming lady in the Deep Roads, had my ass handed to me by a haunted mansion. . . Have you ever seen a Varterral? Big, ancient elven rock monster, never dies?”

“Yes.”

Miriam blinked, “You’ve seen a _Varterral_? How’d you. . .”

“I’ve seen _you_ , fight the Varterral.” she clarified quietly, lifting her head.

“That’s why I know things I’m not supposed to. I can see the future. Things that change the world, and people’s individual futures. I’ve seen yours, everything you’ve been through, and what you might go through.”

She turned towards Araas, “And you, too, for as long as I can remember.”

It was quiet again for a moment, then Miriam spoke carefully.

“Well, that’s. . . uh, unique! I’ve always wanted to add “ _met a clairvoyant by coincidence”_ to my list of conversation topics.”

“If you can see the future,” Araas spoke, ever calm. “Why did you not escape the village before you were betrayed?”

“I can’t-” The girl coughed again, the force of it drowning out the whine of the Mabari in her lap. “I can’t see my own future. I don’t. . . I don’t know why, but any future I’m involved in can’t be seen. So I can’t get involved. 

That’s why I panicked on the beach. If I get involved with someone’s future, or involve myself in events that change the world, it changes too soon for me to see, and then I don’t know. I didn’t want that to happen to the two of you, not now.”

“You care about our futures?” he asked.

“I’ve seen everything that’s happened to the both of you for the past ten years. And I’ve seen what you’re going to do. Like, when you saved me, you’re on your way south to join the Inquisition because Hawke won’t lie low. You both change the future dramatically. I’ve. . . sort of known you my whole life. . .”

“Damn _right_ I won’t lie low.” Miriam snorted, crossing her arms. 

Araas raised a brow.

“You have seen everything? Including events that led to our relationship, and it’s formation?”

“I saw the future where it was a possibility. Some things are set to happen, set in motion a long time ago, but some futures are still probable, depending on the choices the people involved make.” The girl smiled then. “I’m glad we’re in this timeline. You two deserve to be happy with each other, and will be for as far as I can foresee.”

Miriam’s jaw dropped, and when she looked to Araas, he seemed satisfied with this answer.

“Awww! You’re so sweet!” Hawke, threw her arms around the girl, giving her an affectionate squeeze. “I bet you were rooting for us from the beginning, weren’t you? I have to apologize though, because I can only imagine what- Wait, did you see a different future too? One where we never-”

Miriam withdrew her hug as the girl doubled over in another hacking fit. Bronx whined and yipped, his ears pinned back, shifting nervously where he stood.

“Hawke,” Araas stood, but Miriam stopped him.

“I know, I hear it too. Sweetheart?” she knelt in front of the girl, holding her carefully by the shoulders. “I need to check something, so I need you to sit up straight for me, okay?”

The young Tal-Vashoth complied, straightening her posture, and raising her chin as Miriam pressed an ear to her chest.

“Okay, now take a few deep breaths.”

Again she complied, but on the second breath she doubled over into another coughing fit, leaning against Miriam.

Hawke groaned. “Dammit!”

“What’s. . .” the girl gasped for air. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s still water in your lungs. If it’s not removed, you’re lungs will try to remove it for you and you’ll drown. _Again._ ”

“She needs a healer.”

“I _know_ that.” Miriam said, exasperated. “But _where_ are we supposed to find a healer out _here_?”

The girl spoke up immediately. “Do you have a map?”

“Uh. . . yeah, hang on.”

Miriam dug through their sack, rummaging around until she came across the rolled up map of the Storm Coast. The young Tal-Vashoth thanked her as she passed over the map, unfurling it and holding the parchment up to her nose. She moved it around, squinting at the map, then turned so that the firelight shone directly on it from behind her. It was quiet again, and Miriam was wondering if she could offer her help, then wondering _how_ she could offer her help, by the time anyone spoke again.

“There.” She lowered the map and pointed a claw to the north-eastern end of it. Araas and Miriam moved to stand behind her, following her direction without blocking her light.

“There’s a mercenary band gathering here, waiting to join the Inquisition.” she explained. “They have a healer, a very good one. If they’re not there now, they will be soon.”

She rolled the map back up carefully, holding it out for either one to take.

“It’s not far.” Araas pointed out.

“Then there’s no time to waste!” Miriam took the map and stashed it into the sack. She pulled out her cloak, draping it over the young Tal-Vashoth’s shoulders. It was useless to Miriam in this sort of weather, but for the girl, it was an improvement on what she was currently in.

“Let’s go get you fixed up then.”

As Miriam set about, putting out the fire and gathering up their sack of things, Araas helped the girl off the crate and back to her feet.

“Araas?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes?”

“The leader of the mercenaries, he’s called The Iron Bull. But. . .” she leaned against him, worry written clearly on her features.

“He’s an agent of the Ben-Hassarath. He won’t hurt us, that’s not his mission, but I. . . I thought you should know first, since you’d know as soon as you met him.”

Araas rumbled, “And what is his rank?”

The girl looped her arms around his again.

“Hissrad.”


	2. Chapter 2

The going was slow as they made their way carefully up the coast. Araas and the young girl had gotten better at walking jointly in the meanwhile, but her bare feet still stumbled across slick, rocky ground. Hawke had taken point, keeping herself a few steps ahead of the Tal-Vashoth pair. Her worry for the girl drove her anxiety through the roof. A part of her desperately wanted to run ahead and find this healer, to end it all sooner. But a larger part of her, the part that was currently winning, kept her within arm’s reach, to be there for this girl should she need Miriam.

Her immediate surroundings didn't steady her nerves in the slightest. There was something off about it, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The waves crashed against the stony shore, the infamous storms of the Storm Coast stormed on, and every now and then the girl would cough, a sound that rose in frequency and severity as time passed.

_ Oh, wait. _

“Where are the seabirds?” Miriam wondered aloud, finally identifying the missing component.

“The. . .  _ Breach, _ may have driven the animals into hiding.” Araas surmised.

They were given a brief respite from the downpour as they passed through a small cave in the cliffside, formed by the basalt columns. Bronx stopped to shake the wet out of his fur, unaware of just how pointless this had been with the brevity of their stay in the shelter. Miriam grumbled, stepping carefully down the basalt steps and back into the storm.

“Well it’s  _ creepy _ .”

The girl coughed again, the sound so deep and wet that Hawke couldn't help but stop and stare. Araas helped her down the steps once the fit had subsided, then met Miriam's brown eyes, conveying their shared urgency. He spoke softly to the girl.

"How do you feel, imekari?"

"My chest hurts." She croaked.

"Don't worry, we're almost there." Miriam said hurriedly. "Just hold on. If walking gets difficult, say something, okay?"

The girl nodded, leaning heavily on Araas' arm as they continued up the coast.

The further they went, the worse she became. She breathed through her mouth in short gasps, clutching at her chest. Miriam tried to distract herself by mentally cursing everything she could think of that played even the smallest part in hindering their journey. She cursed everything from the soggy weather to whatever geological forces had shaped the Storm Coast to be so damn long and rocky. She thought about cursing the girl's body for turning on her as it was, but then thought better of it. Tempting fate was usually counter-productive, in her experience.

She could tell from small changes in his demeanor that Araas was just as concerned about their progress as she. His shoulders were tense, his brow downturned ever so minutely, and the way he held the girl so close stood out particularly. She had rarely seen such gentleness from him before.

Barking from Bronx pulled her from her thoughts. Miriam stopped beside her mabari, wiping rain from her eyes with the back of her wrist.

"What is it boy?"

"Smoke, just ahead." Araas pointed, and sure enough a dark grey plume reached into the sky from the otherside of the next hill. The hill was close to the shore, but there was a thin stretch of beach between it and the sea around its head, meaning that they could simply walk around it rather than climb over it.

"C'mon sweetie!" Hawke's energy was renewed, nearly bouncing in place. "One more bend!"

The girl responded with another rough cough. She sounded like she was trying to cough up a lung, the force of the fit covering her chin with saliva. Miriam tried not to cringe. Instead, she turned the stress and anxiety into the energy she needed to power through this, as she'd done for the past decade.

Hawke and Bronx bounded ahead, slowing only as they reached the bend. It would be just her luck for the smoke to be from a bandit camp rather than their saving grace. So she took the corner carefully, peaking around to find out if they were dealing with friend or foe.

The camp seemed busy. Armored individuals carried crates and barrels stacked nearby and loaded them into a very large cart. She could hear laughter, and smell meat roasting over their fire. Their arms and armor were of fine quality, but not uniform. In fact, the whole band seemed to be comprised of a ragtag mix of cultures. Miriam could make out humans in armors from a few different countries, elves with and without vallaslin, and even a dwarf here and there. It was unlike any company she'd ever seen.

Then from their midst came a great booming laugh, and up from the crowd stood a Qunari. He was shirtless save for a harness on his left shoulder in typical Qunari fashion. His horns were broad and swept up at a sharp angle, he had a grey skin tone like Araas', tattoos over both arms and pecs, and a silver eyepatch over his left eye.

That had to be The Iron Bull. Which meant that they'd finally made it.

"It's them!" She said to Araas, dropping their sack of things to the ground before taking off with Bronx to establish contact.

Of course, seeing someone run towards them like a mad-woman halted all activity, and anyone who didn't have their hands full drew their weapons. Miriam threw her hands into the air in response.

"I come in peace!" She shouted, hoping that, for once in her life, the people she was running towards would actually believe her.

The Iron Bull pushed through to the front of his men, holding up a hand to signal his men to stand down. Miriam stopped a couple yards in front of him, slightly out of breath.

"The Iron Bull, I presume?" She held up a hand as he opened his mouth. "Don't ask me how I know that. I swear, I'll tell you later, but right now I need to ask-"

"Maker's tears!" Someone shouted from the back. "That's the bleedin' Champion of Kirkwall!"

Miriam rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm the Champion of Kirkwall. If you have any praises or grievances  _ please _ save them for later because right now there's a  _ serious _ emergency."

"What do you need?" The Iron Bull was straight to business, thank the stars.

"Your healer."

The Iron Bull turned to his men, but before he could speak, a man pushed through to join him at the front, a bag in hand. 

"I'm here Chief." The man inclined his head towards Miriam. "The name's Stitches, Champion. What do you need?"

Miriam's heart jumped at the sight of another Fereldan. She turned and strode purposefully back from whence she came just as Araas and the girl rounded the corner, Stitches matching her urgency step for step.

"We found her washed ashore half-drowned. I managed to revive her, but she still-"

The girl was thrown into another coughing fit, and this time her knees gave out from under her. She crumpled against Araas' side, the elder Tal-Vashoth cradling her gently and supporting her weight fully. Stitches was at her side before Miriam could even blink.

"She's nearly drowned," he surmised. "There's still water in her lungs?"

Araas gave a curt nod, "There is."

"Right then, set her over here." The healer set his bag down next to a boulder at the base of the hill. "Dalish! I need Dalish over here!"

Miriam watched helplessly from the side as Araas sat the girl up onto the rock, letting her lean against him while Stitches knelt before her.

"Just checking your breathing for myself," he explained, pressing his ear to get chest as Miriam had done. The girl was wheezing now, eyes closed as she struggled for air.

Just then, a blonde elf embellished with green vallaslin rushed past Hawke, joining Stitches. The healer stood and gave a sharp order, forcing Araas to give up his post at the girl's side. While he joined Miriam in helpless spectating, Stitches knelt behind the girl, cupping her jaw and tilting her head up, exposing her throat. Dalish now kneeled in front of her, both hands on her shoulders.

"We need to get the water out. Are you ready?"

"I've only done this a few times," Dalish sounded unsure, yet still determined.

"You did just fine those few times. Just take it slow." Stitches turned to Miriam then.

"What's her name?"

Miriam faltered. Did she really have the time to explain the neglectful upbringing this girl had experienced? 

"I don't. . . she doesn't-"

" _ Hissera _ ," Araas' voice cut through her uncertainty, clear and concise. "She is Hissera."

Miriam’s head snapped up to stare dumbly at her lover. 

“Alright Hissera,” Stitches focused on his patient. “This won’t be easy, but we’re going to need you to stay as still as you can.”

Dalish moved her hands from the girl-  _ Hissera’s _ \- shoulders to her chest. Hawke watched, enthralled as magic swirled between the two. One hand moved slowly up from Hissera’s sternum towards her throat, with so much intense concentration that Dalish surely would have been perspiring beads of sweat if not for the current downpour. Then, she reached the young qunari’s throat, and Hissera lurched violently, expelling a deep, guttural, wet sound of pain.

Miriam Hawke had been dead center amongst some of the most terrifying, unimaginable circumstances ever to occur in the entirety of Thedas, steeling herself and never flinching once through the whole of it. But here, witnessing this, she recoiled, her own breath catching painfully in her throat. Of its own accord, her hand took ahold of Araas’, her body following soon after to press itself to his side, seeking comfort from her lover. His hand engulfed hers, squeezing ever so slightly to let her know that she wasn’t alone in her horrified helplessness. Bronx whimpered between her legs.

“Hold on Hissera, not much further.” Stitches assured. Her eyes squeezed shut, her body still spasming every few seconds, but her shoulders and jaw were set.

As Dalish’s hand trailed up Hissera’s throat and past her chin, pink water flowed from her mouth, held captive in the air just above by magic. It felt like a painful eternity as the fluid was pulled from her, but, just as she had on the beach hours ago, Hissera finally heaved in one large, sharp gulp of air. Stitches laughed with relief, softly patting her back. Dalish stood, smiling with her own relief as she simply cast the offending water aside.

“She’s going to be okay.” She affirmed to the waiting couple, before shouting to the rest of the Chargers, still waiting for news a few yards behind them.

“She’s okay!”

A high, rowdy cheer erupted from the lot of them.

Miriam broke away from Araas, though he followed closely behind as they reattached themselves to Hissera’s side.

“I’ve got a potion ready for her, but she’ll need food in her belly first.” Stitches nodded back to camp. “You’re more than welcome to join us. Plenty enough for everybody.”

Miriam thanked him as he walked back to the campside. She then took Hissera’s right hand into her own.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” she asked. “I can’t imagine that was very pleasant to go through.”

Hissera gave a small, healthier cough, shaking her head.

“I think I’d rather  _ drown  _ than have to do  _ that  _ again.”

Miriam blinked, not expecting humor from a young girl who had almost died twice in the same day.

_ Well, unless that girl was me.  _

So, Hawke laughed uproariously.

“Come,” Araas carefully took Hissera’s arm in hand once Miriam’s bought of laughter had passed. “You must eat.”

In the short time it took the three of them to gather themselves and hobble into the mercenary camp, there was a significant improvement in Hissera. She walked upright, and though she still breathed shallow, she didn’t cough once. Dusk had set in during the whole ordeal, doing nothing to limit her ability to walk with only Araas as a guiding hand. Miriam couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

The Iron Bull waited for them at the edge of camp, backlit by the fire and holding a bundle of cloth under his arm. Araas stopped two strides short, steeled gaze locked onto the Qunari before him with piercing intent. Miriam couldn’t help but notice the angle of his stance, putting Hissera further from the Ben-Hassrath and his body in position to intercept should the distance be closed. The Iron Bull must have noticed it too, judging by the way his one eye slid from Hissera, holding on to Araas’ elbow and staring blankly ahead, to the former Arishok himself, meeting the hard stare with ease.

If it bothered him, he failed to show it. Instead, The Iron Bull was relaxed, wearing an easy smile as he turned his attention to Hawke.

“The boys and I scrounged up some clothes for the kid.” He held out the cloth bundle to Miriam, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “She can get changed in that tent over there while we finish up with dinner. And over  _ there _ ,” He then pointed to a canvas canopy sheltering a few crates and barrels from the storm on his right, their left. “Is a dry place to sit. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

And with that, he turned leisurely on his heel and returned to his seat, sheltered from the storm as theirs was, but directly across the fire from their designated spot. 

Miriam took the clothes and Hissera’s hand, guiding her to the aforementioned tent.

“Miriam?” Hissera whispered, standing in the tent entrance. “ _ Please  _ tell me if I start acting. . . well,  _ weird _ .”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to explain. My definition of weird is fairly  _ narrow _ , all things considered.”   
  
The qunari girl shifted. “It’s just, these guys are  _ incredible.  _ Like, almost as incredible as  _ you _ .” She timidly tucked hair behind a pointed ear.   
  
“I’ve known them for a really long time. I don’t want to seem like a crazed fan, you know?”

Miriam chuckled. “Gotten over the whole,  _ “I’m not supposed to be here” _ -thing, have we?”

Hissera shrugged.

“In for a copper?”

Hawke laughed, handing the clothes over and waiting just outside should she be needed. Meanwhile, Araas still scrutinized The Iron Bull through the flames between them. It would have been a far more tense situation had the other qunari dienged to indulge in the analytics rather than banter with his men freely. Miriam shook her head. 

Hissera needn’t fear being too “weird” so long as Araas decided to make his  _ I’m trying to figure out whether I should trust or kill you  _ face at a man who rightly didn’t give a damn.

The third qunari exited the tent soon after, arms held away from her sides to display her new wardrobe. Quite noticeably, the brick red shirt, which looked like had once been someone’s brick red robe, and the black pants fit her lengthwise, but engulfed the width of her. She’d managed to tie the front so that it both held up the pants and closed the front, but the sleeves and pant legs hung off of her limbs almost comically.

“Uhh. . .”

The Iron Bull laughed. “Don’t worry kid. We should be able to tie those up. Once my lieutenant gets back, he’ll be able to tailor them to fit comfortably.”

Miriam led Hissera to their seats, picking up a small sack from The Iron Bull as they passed. 

“And sorry we couldn’t find any shoes for you. Dalish can wrap your feet until you can find a pair.”

“This is already a big improvement.” Hissera lowered herself onto the crate right of where Araas sat. “I can’t thank you all enough.”

Hissera’s wrists and ankles were wrapped as wooden bowls of rice and sliced game meat were passed around. She sat in pondering silence, finally opening her mouth as though to speak when a bowl was put gently into her hands by Araas. The savory aroma of the roasted meat and hot rice hit her, and her stomach  _ roared _ .

_ She’d been asleep when she was taken, and now it was getting dark again. Had it been that long since she’d last eaten? _

Whatever the girl had been thinking or about to was immediately forgotten as she brought the bowl to her face and began shoveling heaping helpings into her waiting mouth as fast as she was physically able to handle. She only paused to take a breath, and Miriam took the opportunity to push a water skin against her hand. She drank just as greedily as she ate, blissfully unaware of the attention she was drawing.

“I think the kid likes your cooking Skinner.” The Iron Bull laughed. The response from a nearby elvhen woman was smug.

“Why wouldn’t she?”   
  
“It  _ could  _ be spicier.”

“You say that about  _ everything  _ you eat, Chief.”

The rest of their party laughed just as Hissera finished her bowl. She wiped the back of her wrist across her mouth before speaking.

“It’s delicious, thank you again.”

“Grab another bowl if you’re still hungry, kid.”

Hissera blinked. “I-I wouldn’t want to- I mean-”

Miriam and Araas worked in tandem. The bowl in her hands was taken, and another already filled replaced it before the girl could even think.

“You have not been fed as well as a young qunari should have.” Araas spoke beside her, his voice low and firm. “Eat until you are satisfied.”

She only quietly nodded her head and began to eat, much slower this time.

Miriam scowled, realizing the weight of her lover’s statement. A qunari child, raised by humans. Hissera was already much taller than Miriam and the other humans in the camp, but thin. Had they really been so cruel as to deny her second helpings?

Before Miriam could get angry on behalf of this child yet again, the healer, Stitches, approached them.

“Take this once you’ve finished,” he said, holding out a small vial to Hissera. She’d turned her face up from her meal, holding out a hand, thought not in Stitches’ direction. Miriam took it in her stead.

“Is it cherry flavored?” Miriam asked with her signature sarcastic flair. “She doesn’t seem like a “grape flavored medicine” type of gal.”

Hissera laughed along with the rest of the crew.

“It probably tastes like crap.” The Iron Bull spoke before his healer could. “Just pinch your nose and take it in one go for your own sake kid.”

“That’s because it’s a poultice, ser.” Hissera grinned, perfectly mimicking Stitches Fereldan accent. “You’re not supposed to drink it.”

The mercenaries’ laughter picked up again, but The Iron Bull sat forward with sudden interest. Araas corrected his own shite posture in response to the tangible change in mood.

“How’d you do that?”

“And that’s  _ not  _ a poultice, young miss.” Stitches corrected as he headed back for his dry seat. “It is, in fact, a potion. Just in case there’s any internal damage.”

Hissera set her empty bowl in her lap, turning her attention to The Iron Bull.

“Stitches says that now and then,” he said. “But hasn’t once since you’ve showed up. Is this the part where Hawke explains how you knew where to find me, specifically?”

The girl spoke before Miriam could voice her clever lie.

“I can see the future.”

“ _ Imekari- _ ”

“He’s a  _ good man,  _ Araas.” Hissera firmly cut off Araas’ warning growl, stunning both he and Miriam with her tenacity.

“And besides, there’s no use in lying to him. A Ben-Hassrath agent would see right through it, wouldn’t he?”

The camp fell silent.

“He might.” said The Iron Bull. “But I might need some more information before I really believe that you’re telling the truth now.”

Hissera shrugged. “That’s fair.”

The crackling of the fire was the only thing that could be heard through the camp. Even the scraping of utensils against the wooden bowls had ceased, so interested were the occupants with this particular conversation.

“Like I said, I can see the future. Hawke knew who you were and where to find you because I told her. You’re all here to eliminate a Tevinter smuggling operation and to meet with representatives from the Inquisition to discuss working for them. I’d foreseen this, and knew that Stitches would be the nearest healer who could help me.”

A murmur ran through the camp.

“I haven’t heard Stitches say that in person, but he says it to someone important in the future.” Hissera continued. The eyebrows of the healer in question shot up incredulously. “Krem- er, Lieutenant Aclassi isn’t here because he’s in Haven, passing along your invitation, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Bull confirmed. “He was supposed to be back by tonight. Why not call him Krem?”

“I’d like to get his permission to do so first.”

Bull seemed satisfied with this reply.

“You don’t have to worry about him. He was delayed by the war even more than you could have foreseen, but he avoided it alright. Save him a bowl. He’ll be back before you finish cleaning up from supper.”

The quiet blond man and Dalish stopped in their tasks, arms either full of dishes or full of food containers. The Iron Bull leaned back in his seat, openly impressed.

“That’s pretty handy kid. You wouldn’t happen to know who we might be meeting with tomorrow, would you?”

Hissera hummed, “It depends on who Lieutenant Aclassi spoke to in Haven. There are a lot of futures with different important people. They’ll be accompanied by Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast and an elvhen apostate, however.”

“Rumor has it that they’re lead agent is being called the Herald of Andraste. Will they be there?”

“Yes.”

Just then, the sound of hooves could be heard above the rain. The attention collectively shifted to the newcomer as they pulled their horse to a steady halt alongside their camp.

“Sorry about the wait Chief.” said Lieutenant Cremissius Aclassi as he dismounted. “Damned Templars have half the roads in Ferelden blockaded. Had to take the long way around Lake Calenhad.”

Hissera leaned over to half-whisper to Miriam.

“I should have bet money on this, shouldn’t I?”

Miriam, Bull, and the rest burst into laughter. The lieutenant was surprised to see them.

“Ah, guests.”

“Don’t be rude, Krem-anglaise!” Bull stood as his second joined him for introductions.

“We’ve got the Champion of Kirkwall and the former Arishok, though he calls himself Araas nowadays, and in between is Hissera, the recently un-drowned.”

The lieutenant saluted them with a fist to his chest. “Lieutenant Cremisius Aclassi. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Miriam saluted back, while Araas and Hissera both inclined their heads. Araas was as stone faced as ever, while Hissera positively beamed.

“So,” Bull began as they both took their seats. “How was Haven?”

Cremisius took the bowl that was offered to him.

“Not the warmest greeting I’ve had, but the woman I spoke with eventually more than made up for it.”

“A woman?” Hissera perked up. “What was she like? Was she short and stocky, with purple eyes, hair in a bun, and carrying a staff?”

The spoon in the lieutenant’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth, then was slowly lowered back into his bowl.

“Yes, actually. How did you know?”   
  
The Iron Bull let out a low whistle and the whole band murmured emphatically. Hissera let out a relieved sigh, relaxing bodily.

“She’s important, then?” Miriam supplied.

“Yes, very. She’s the best possible future we have.”

“Who’s she, then?” Bull asked.

“Krystal Trevelyan.” Hissera replied. “She’s the one everyone’s calling the Herald, but she doesn’t speak for  _ Andraste  _ in any way at all. She’s a mage and a powerful healer. In the battle tomorrow, she’ll maintain a barrier on everyone and it won’t falter once. When it’s over, the first thing she’ll say to you is to ask if you and your men are alright, healing magic already in her hands.”

“Not going to lie, that’d be impressive to see in person.” the lieutenant admitted.

“But if you can see the future, then you know what’s going on with all of this,” The Iron Bull gestured in the general direction of the Breach. “Demon crap. You know what’s going to happen to us, to the  _ world  _ too, don’t you?”

“I can’t tell you what’s happening now and what’s going to happen, exactly. It’s not safe.” Hissera faced The Iron Bull as best as she was able. “But I can tell you this; It won’t be easy. You won’t believe half the things that will happen to you, and it will seem hopeless sometimes.” 

She smiled then, and it was kind. “But, you’ll put your trust in the people around you. Despite everything that happens to you and around you, everything gets  _ so much better  _ from here. You’ll all be happy, and exactly where you belong.”

Heated and shocked whispers broke through the camp again, but The Iron Bull just chuckled deeply, reclining in his seat.

“Damn kid, you’re aptly named.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Wait, so, where did  _ Hissera  _ come from?”

The next morning found them on the move, further up the coast and “towards destiny” as Dalish had so dramatically put it. The Chargers’ supplies were packed into the back of a cart pulled by a bronto lovingly named Sweets, named so for the preferred target of the beast’s habitual supply raids. Hawke, Araas, and Hissera had been invited to join them, both to their meeting and their further trek to Haven. Hawke walked at the front, accompanied by the admirers she had within the group. The only thing that kept them at a three feet radius from her was Araas’ looming form, ever present at her right elbow, and Krem’s sharp order that they all mind their manners.

Hissera had been convinced to ride on the back of the cart. The Iron Bull and Bronx joined her at the back of the crowd, the former making relaxed conversation while the latter repeatedly brought her a piece of driftwood to be thrown. The mabari seemed to enjoy the fact that neither he nor the girl could predict where the stick would wind up next.

“Stitches needed to address you and asked for your name. Araas called you Hissera.” Bull chuckled. “Pretty damn creative if you ask me. He might’ve had that one in his head for a while, as quickly as he responded.”

“Hissera is a word in Qunlat isn’t it? What does it mean?”

“It means  _ hope _ , and he’s right.”

Hissera blinked, a smile slowly gracing her features.   


“Oh. . . cool!”

The smoky mabari raced back to the cart, alerting his new charge with a muffled yip. She happily took the slimy stick in hand, launching it far from the cart. Bull watched with amusement as Bronx sped off, first towards a cliff, then into the woods nearby as the stick ricochet off the stone.

“And _ imekari _ , that’s a Qunlat word too.”

“Mm-hm,” Bull confirmed. “It means  _ child _ . Your pronunciation of Qunlat is nearly perfect, by the way. Nice job.”

Hissera positively beamed.

“Oh wow! Thank you! That means a lot. I’ve always wanted to learn.”

Their conversation ended abruptly when the cart and crew came to a quick halt. Hissera made a mad grab for the side of the cart, but it was Bull’s hand on her shoulder that saved her from tumbling. It was nearly dead quiet as Bronx returned with the stick, standing at attention with the sudden mood shift. Krem joined Bull beside the cart.

“The Tevinter mercenaries are just ahead Chief. I’ve already sent Skinner and two others to scout ahead and count heads.”

“Good work Krem. Hey Kid,” Bull turned to Hissera. “Any futures where these Vints surrender?”

She shook her head. “Mm, no. But it’s polite to ask anyway.”

“I didn’t think so. C’mon Krem-puff, let’s kick some ass.”

Bull and Krem moved to the front to address the crew, Hissera hopping off the cart to follow suit.

“Oh come on. You  _ know  _ you really want to hit something right now. We might as well lend a hand.” She heard Miriam say, presumably to Araas.

“Can I hit something?”

“ _ No. _ ” Came the firm answer from the couple in tandem.

Hissera shrugged. “That’s fair, honestly.”

“Alright boys, the numbers are in. Keep your wits about you, and mind your manners.” Bull spoke loud and clear to the band. “We’re here to show the Inquisition what the Bull’s Chargers are made of, but we don’t need any theatrics on this particular venture. Are we clear?”

“Yes Chief!” resounded through the gathered mercenaries.

“Alright. Chargers!”

“ _ Horns up! _ ”

Hissera bellowed and matched their enthusiasm, then made to follow the crew as they headed for confrontation, only to be stopped by Araas’s hand on her shoulder.

“Remain here, hidden.” He said as he gently guided her back behind the cart. Then he pointed to Bronx.

“Stay with Hissera.” He commanded, then turned and rejoined the others, drawing his weapons.

Hissera sighed and leaned against the cart. Bronx pressed his side against her legs, standing at attention, dutifully guarding his charge. It didn’t take long for the sounds of the fight to reach them. At the very least, Hissera could watch the fight through her memories, as she’d seen the battle before in her visions. The Chargers were evenly matched in numbers, but the Tevinter mercenaries had two or three mages. But then, the Inquisition would come sweeping in. Krystal with her small team to tip the balance and save lives. 

Suddenly she was struck with an idea. She dropped to kneel in front of Bronx, eagerly petting the mabari to get him excited.

“Bronx! Go find Varric, Bronx!

___________________________________

Miriam Hawke wiped a mixture of rain, sweat, and blood from her cheek. The barrier that had been thrown up around her and sustained during the battle dissipated. She couldn’t help but be impressed as she watched the short woman run up to Bull. Not even Anders or Merrill could keep a barrier that strong for that long.

She turned as Araas took quick strides to reach her side. She shot him a lopsided grin as he brushed a dripping lock of hair behind her ear, both quickly checking the other for injuries. It was a ritual that had become ingrained in them after their last few years shared fighting side by side.

“The mage is powerful, but refuses to cause harm.” Araas stated, turning his attention to the so-called “Herald” once he was satisfied that Miriam was unscathed.

“I’m not surprised. Hissera said she was kind. Looks like a healer if I ever saw one.”

“Preferably not possessed as the last had been.”

Miriam elbowed him with a snort. 

“Does it bother you?” she asked after a while, referring to the Shokra-taar armor that Krystal wore. It was identical to the armor Araas had worn when he had been the Arishok, though it was considerably smaller.

“Why would it?” he replied, though Miriam still picked up on the barest hint of an edge to his voice. She leaned her shoulder against his bicep in a subtle, comforting gesture.

“You looked better in it anyway.” 

“ _ Hawke?! _ ”

There was shock and a touch of fury in the accented voice that called out to her. The couple turned, watching a tall, scarred woman with short, black hair march up to them.

“And you would be?”

“I am Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. I came to Kirkwall not long ago to ask for your aid at the Conclave, and you were  _ gone _ .”

“Ah. I had to step out a bit. Word on the street was that an Exalted March was on its way. Did you schedule an appointment with my doorman?”

“You-!” The Seeker clenched her fists. “That  _ snake _ ! He told me you were unreachable, yet here you are.”

She whirled around then. Her piercing fury locked on to a bald elf standing not too far off. Fury shifted into heated surprise when she found that he stood there, alone.

“Where is  _ Varric _ ?” she demanded.

The elf spoke cooly as he replied. “I have not seen him. He vanished towards the end of battle, though I do not know to where.”

“Cassandra?”

A soft voice came from behind them, interrupting whatever fight was surely about to break out. Krystal Trevelyan had concluded her discussion with Bull, now turned to them with her hands clasped serenely in front of her. She wore a kind smile, exuding calm.

“The Bull’s Chargers are going to join the Inquisition. Could you ride ahead to Haven and let them know we’re expecting the company, please?”

“Herald, I hardly think that it is necessary.” Cassandra countered. “Varric must answer for this. His disappearance is a clear sign of his guilt.”

Miriam visibly bristled behind her, causing Araas to place a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“You two can talk about this back at Haven. I’m sure he isn’t far.” Krystal replied.

The Seeker persisted. “ _ Even so _ , you need a warrior here to guard you. Scout Harding is quite capable of reporting back to Leliana herself.”

“The Iron Bull promised to guard me, and Harding is still looking for the missing soldiers here.”

“But sending a crow could-”

“ _ Cassandra _ ,” Krystal fixed the Seeker with gentle, violet eyes, and spoke calmly. “Please?”

It was tense as the Seeker looked back at Hawke. She eyed Miriam, then Araas in turn, silently resolving to continue this at a later date. Neither Miriam nor Araas were phased by this. Cassandra slowly turned back to Krystal, bowing her head.

“Of course, Herald.”

The Seeker strode away, back the way the small squad had suddenly appeared, as Krystal joined Miriam and Araas on the beach.

“She and Varric have been fighting from the beginning.” she sighed, clearly concerned. “I do all I can to keep things calm, but she’s still hurt.”

“Have they now?” Miriam wondered, ire in her words. She and Varric had kept in touch after she’d fled Kirkwall, but just before she’d reached port taking them to the Storm Coast, his letters had stopped coming. Immediately after, the Breach had opened. The Seeker obviously was a part of his sudden silence. 

The healer and supposed Herald swept her arms out to her sides, dropping into a graceful curtsy.

“Krystal Trevelyan, at your service, by the way.” she supplied. “It’s an honor and a pleasure to make both of your acquaintances.”

Miriam placed a fist over her heart and bowed, “Miriam Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall at yours.” She gestured to Araas. “And this is my husband, Araas.”

It was a lie she had fabricated as they fled Kirkwall. Once Miriam had explained that their traveling and open affections wouldn’t be questioned with such an explanation, he’d agreed that it was necessary. They’d been traveling under the guise ever since, and now introducing Araas as her husband came so naturally to her. 

The qunari nodded his head. “Shanedan, human.”

Miriam wasn’t sure what to expect from the stout woman, but rather than the typical shock and uncertainty, Krystal clasped her hands together with a gasp.

“Your _husband?_ ” she beamed. “How wonderful! Congratulations!”

Miriam laughed. She was pleasantly surprised, but worried about any probing questions. Hawke searched for a way out before she encountered such awkwardness. Deep brown eyes scanned the beach, settling eventually on one of the three Tevinter mages they’d encountered during the battle. Now dead, they wore white and grey armor in typical Tevinter style, full of sharp pointy bits of metal and cloth, including the strange metal mask. They hadn’t fared very well against Miriam’s daggers, and their odds had plummeted drastically once Araas had stepped in with his greataxe and sword. Being distracted by the great horned man did little to improve one’s chances of not dying when you were being snuck up on by the dagger weilding Champion of Kirkwall.

The mage’s staff was fairly simple when compared to their armor, she’d noticed. There was no grip, leaving most of the staff bare. The tip was diamond shaped steel, and the blade was tacked onto the opposite end, almost like an afterthought. If she remembered her training with Bethany correctly, the blade style was called “ornate”, though there was nothing intricate about it.

Miriam stepped away from Krystal and Araas and over the body, prying the staff from the grasp of the dead.

“For Hissera?” Araas surmised.

“Precisely.” She tested the weight of the weapon in her hands, pleased to find that it was fairly light. “We just take this bit off here, and take off the blade-”

“Leave the blade.” he said. “She will be taught to wield it.”

Krystal blinked violet eyes, clearly lost. “Who’s Hissera?”

“Hey guys!” 

The call and coincidental answer came from a ways down the beach to their right, where the Chargers were now reloading the resealed liquor casks. Hissera waved an arm high over her head. Bronx barked excitedly beside her, stub tail wagging fervently.

“I found something really cool! Come look!”

Araas’s usual grimace deepened ever so slightly.

“She was instructed to remain with the cart.”

Miriam just rolled her eyes, smiling and shaking her head. She slung the commandeered staff over her shoulder and crossed the beach to rejoin her mabari and the girl.

“Is it a spider? Because I  _ really  _ don’t like spiders.”

“It’s not a spider, I promise.” Hissera clasped her hands behind her as they approached.

“Hissera,” Araas began. “You were instructed to-”

Miriam cut him off with a sudden scream, shoving past both qunari in the blink of an eye.

“ _ Varric Motherfucking Tethras, you son of a bitch! _ ” She shouted.

“Holy shit Hawke! It’s good to see y-”

He was cut off too as Miriam threw her arms around the dwarf, lifting him up and spinning them both around with jubilant laughter.

“Maker, Cricket.” Varric wheezed. “I really-  _ oof _ \- really need you to put me down.”

“Oh  _ fine. _ ” Miriam laughed. She leveled with him once his boots met the beach.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hear from you, and then that  _ thing- the Breach _ , happened.” She shoved her wet hair back out of her face. “You’re traveling with Krystal now, I suppose?”

“I’m  _ fine  _ Cricket, really.” Varric chuckled, holding his hands up. “Just trying to help clean up the mess we got ourselves into.”

He caught Araas’s eye over Hawke’s shoulder and winked.

“Good to see you again Grumpy. Thanks for looking after our girl.”

“The care was mutual, Varric.”

Krystal joined them then, followed closely by the bald elf who’d spoken earlier.

“Oh Varric!” she smiled. “There you are! Are you alright?”

“I’m  _ fine _ , Peach. Thanks to the half-pint here, I steered clear of the Seeker.” Varric gestured to Hissera, eager to get the sudden affection off of him. “Picked up another misfit stray, huh Cricket?”

Miriam turned to Hissera, gratitude and relief clear on her face. She placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Thank you Hissera. I’m. . .  _ incredibly  _ grateful.”

“Aw,” Hissera was suddenly bashful, rubbing the back of her necks. 

“Oh how lucky!” Krystal clapped. Solas nodded.

“A timely moment of foresight, indeed.”

Hissera laughed. “That’s actually  _ exactly  _ what happened.”

“ _ Imekari. _ ” Araas warned.

“We can trust them Araas. I promise.”

“Sorry, but you’ve both lost me.” said Varric.

“Oh good.” Krystal sighed. “I thought it was just me.”

“She can see the future.” Hawke and Hissera said at once. The qunari teen turned to Varric, Krystal, and Solas and waved shyly.

“Hi, I’m Hissera. Hawke and Araas saved me from drowning in the Waking Sea and gave me my name. I’m sort of blind, and I can see the future. I already know who you three are, and I’m  _ really very excited  _ to meet you.”

While the two men stared at the teen, stunned, Krystal stepped forward and took one of Hissera’s hands between her own.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, wow,” Hissera grinned, barely able to contain her enthusiasm. “That means  _ so much  _ coming from you. And just- wow!”

Krystal laughed. “Do I really do that much good in the future?”

“Of course!” The damn holding back Hissera’s excitement broke. “You’re the best thing to happen to the world! You’re brave, honest and so kind, and exactly what everyone needs! You’ll help so many people, and make so many close friends in the process.” Hissera, who had leaned in closer to Krystal during her rant, delighted. “It doesn’t look like it now, but you’re going to be so happy here. You deserve it too.”

The healer only laughed more. “Oh, I really like you!”

Hissera sobered then, turning towards Varric. “Cassandra isn’t going to be happy when she finds you, and it’s only going to get worse when she realizes you lied about the Arishok.”

“Yeah,” Varric shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll do a better job of avoiding her once we get back. Give her some time to cool off.”

“I. . . don’t foresee that happening. . .”


	4. Chapter 4

The trip from the Storm Coast to Haven had taken about a week to traverse, given the size of the group traveling. Krystal had regaled Bull and the Chargers with all that the Inquisition had accomplished so far, and remorsefully recounted what still needed to be done. Bull responded with his own enthusiasm and self-assuredness, saying that the world had “gone straight to shit”, but was confident that the clean up would be swift now that Krystal had him around to lend a hand and swing an axe. They agreed that, after resting and resupplying in Haven, they’d set off to the Hinterlands to lend all the aid they could to their refugees. Krem would manage the Chargers and keep Bull in the loop while he was away.

Meanwhile, Hissera had learned to walk with the staff Hawke had found and modified for her. Determined to master her new tool, she’d practiced for hours each night they’d stop for camp, again in the morning before their departure, and while traveling with the help of Hawke or Araas’s guiding elbow. By the third day, she was able to walk independently while still keeping up with the group. She enjoyed her new freedom to explore, and openly appreciated the fewer stubbed toes and scraped knees. To keep her curiosity from pulling Hissera off the trail, Varric offered to sate it with his stories. The dwarf had laughed outright when she had asked him to regale her with anything from Hawke’s time in Kirkwall.

“Half-pint, if you can see the future, and you’ve seen Hawke’s adventures up ‘til this point, I’d just be passing on old news!”

Hissera had laughed, “But Varric, you tell the best stories! And you always embellish them with something  _ wild  _ don’t you? Those are the best parts!”

At Haven, Krystal passed off her mount, a dracolisk lovingly named Honey on account of her golden coloring and sweet affection for Krystal, to a waiting stable hand. An Inquisition recruit came forward to guide Bull and the Chargers on where to settle and to whom they should report. Simultaneously, a runner came to Krystal with urgency, stating that an Ambassador Montiliyet required her presence immediately. The healer sighed, turned to the rest of the group, and apologized for her sudden absence with a bow, promising to return to help them settle the moment she was free.

Hawke turned to her best friend with a smirk.

“Care to give me the grand tour then, Master Tethras?”

Varric clicked his tongue apologetically, putting up his hands and taking slow steps backwards away from the new arrivals.

“I’d. . . better go make myself scarce before the Seeker shows up. Sorry Cricket.”

“Ugh, fine! But you owe me a drink later.”

“Anything for you,” Varric promised with a wink before disappearing back down the road they’d arrived on.

“Well great,” Miriam sighed. “There goes our tour. What now?”

“We are not without our own resources,” Araas responded. He turned to the teenager on his left, still waving farewell to a bygone dwarf.

“Hissera, have your visions granted you familiarity with this encampment?”

She perked instantly, “Oh, yeah! I know my way around Haven.”

“Brilliant!” Hawke clapped the girl on the shoulder. “Know anywhere we can set our things? We all desperately need a bath, a drink, and a hot meal. Not necessarily in that order."

“I would prefer some semblance of privacy, if possible.” Araas added.

“Maybe,” Hissera turned and pointed towards the other side of Haven, where the forest began to thicken past the recruit tents. “There’s an old cabin there that used to belong to Haven’s old healer. As far as I know, no one lives there anymore.”

“Just what we need. Lead the way, oh faithful tour guide!”

And she  _ did _ . Hawke had never seen the blind teen walk so confidently. She turned it into a real tour, stopping briefly to show them the forge and introduce them to the blacksmith Harrit, who nearly fell on his ass when Hawke shook his hand. She pointed out the stables and introduced the horsemaster Dennet, then gestured to the empty space between the corral and the stairs at Haven’s entrance.

“Here’s where Bull and Krem will be setting up, if you ever need them.” she’d explained.

She showed them the recruit tents, where a dozen and a half fresh faces of all kinds were attempting to beat each other senseless. Past them, Hissera waved to a templar woman arguing with a man.

“Hi Lyssette!”

The templar, just as bewildered as the others they’d been introduced to, had hesitantly waved back.

Following a trail around great towering boulders, Hissera went on to mention the abundance of elfroot in the woods as well as the residential potion maker.

“Adan’s grouchy, but that’s because he’s pressed. If you need anything, he’ll definitely help. Especially if you bring him ingredients, or want something that explodes.”

Bronx tore past the three of them, galloping through the snow. The mabari shoved his snout through it as he ran, creating a winding trail of trenches, before stopping to roll as much of himself through it as possible. Two nugs down the trail, already spooked by the newcomers, took off at the sound of his ecstatic yipping.

“Here it is!”

Hissera led them down the slope to a cabin that was, to Hawke’s astonishment and relief, still whole. The exterior of the home was intact and well, with no need for repairs that she could readily see. And, following Hissera through the unlocked door, she was pleased to find the interior in much the same way. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture, but there was already a bed, a desk, and a cold brazier in the center of the home. It was spacious enough for Araas to stand and stretch comfortably, and even Bronx seemed excited at the prospect of it as he took to sniffing every square inch he could reach.

“This,” Hawke began, setting their things in the least dusty corner. “Is going to be the nicest place I’ve stayed since leaving Kirkwall.”

“We will need a lock for the door.” Araas spoke. “But this place is more than sufficient. Well done, Hissera.”

The teen blushed, her enthusiasm shifting to timid appreciation.

“Ah, thanks. We can probably get a lock from the quartermaster, Threnn.”

Miriam, who had begun unpacking a few of their belongings, looked up from the burlap sack.

“Where will you be staying?”

“Oh, um. . .” Hissera’s timidity increased. Hawke had noticed that, when attention was drawn to her, whether for her needs or to be praised, the teenager seemed to retreat inwardly. Hissera became more reserved, her voice became more monotone, and her words uncertain. Miriam wondered if she was expecting the positive treatment to be taken and was physically and mentally preparing herself for such a blow. 

The poor girl.

“I’m just. . . I’ll probably set up a tent not too far. I could probably get one from Threnn, and new boots too.”

Miriam and Araas shared a look. She expressed her concern, while Araas, with a tilt of his head, acknowledged it, but bid her to wait this out.

“Then let us see this quartermaster.” he stated. “We will procure our supplies, and you may continue your tour.”

Hissera nodded with a smile and they all filed out of the cabin. Miriam shut the door behind Bronx, then asked the dog to stand guard over their things until a lock could be added. Back through the training ground and up stone steps they passed through massive doors, then paused for Hissera to point out the Herald’s cabin to the left and the merchant Seggrit to the right.

“I wouldn’t get anything from him, though.” she whispered to them. “He’s raised prices on goods and is rude to everyone.”

At the top of another set of stairs, Hissera stopped to pluck a note from a pillar.

“Andraste’s Mabari.” Was all she said as she passed it to Miriam with a smile.

“Oh I love this song!”

They stopped in front of a few tents just off the stairs. Varric could usually be found here, Hissera explained. The tavern and the alchemist were down the path on the right.

“But this way is the shortest,” The teen mentioned as she began on the left hand path. Her mood had brightened again as they had resumed the tour, much to Hawke’s relief. The teen bounced up the few steps leading up to the next level of Haven, but hesitated on the final step. She tilted her head, and Hawke was about to ask what she had heard when Hissera turned and descended the steps as quickly as she had ascended.

“You know what, it’s actually a really nice day. Why don’t we take the long way and go past the tavern? Did you know it’s called The Singing Maiden, after the torture device that was used by and eventually killed King Bedwyr? We could stop and talk to Solas too. He always has a really cool story or insight to share.”

Both Araas and Miriam had noticed the strange change in Hissera’s behavior. It was difficult not to, as she had pitched her voice up, hunched her shoulders, widened her eyes, and had begun gesturing for them to turn around, as though she meant to usher them out of the immediate vicinity.

“Hissera,” Araas spoke. “What troubles you?”

“It’s nothing, we should just probably go the other way.”

“Why?” Miriam asked.

“ _ Oh Maker. _ ”

Several things happened at once. Hawke’s head snapped up at the exclamation made with a familiar voice. Hissera made a small noise, almost like a whimper, and gripped her staff with both hands. And Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford stared at the three of them in complete shock.

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Miriam snapped.

“Hawke-  _ Champion _ , please-”

“What the fuck is  _ he _ ,” Miriam whirled around, throwing her hand back to gesture to Cullen while staring incredulously at Araas, as though he held the answers. “Doing  _ here _ ?!”

“He’s the Commander of the Inquisitions forces,” Hissera said quickly before Cullen could speak, holding her staff to her chest. “Cassandra recruited him. I-I forgot to tell you. I’m. . . I’m really sorry.”

Miriam whirled on Cullen now, glaring furiously.

“He’s the damn  _ Commander _ ?! Of course the  _ Seeker  _ would give that sort of power to a  _ killer templar _ .”

“Champion this is hardly the time to bring up old disagreements.” Cullen stepped down and towards them. Hissera in turn made another small sound and stumbled back, and in one fluid motion, Araas steadied her, stepped forward, and put Hissera safely behind him. 

“The Breach and this war must be-”

“ _ Disagreements?! _ ” Miriam fumed. “I saw you  _ brutalizing  _ mages and mage sympathizers! You threatened my  _ sister _ ! You stood with fucking  _ Meredith  _ until it was clear she was going to lose! I can’t  _ believe- _ ”

“A lot has changed since Kirkwall,  _ Hawke _ .” The Commander spoke with his own indignation. “The Inquisition works to fix the mess  _ you _ \- er, rather, that apostate-”

Hissera gasped out an  _ Oh no _ , and Miriam shrieked.

“ _ That is it! _ ”

She lunged for Cullen. Spry hands latched onto the fur collar of his cloak. He attempted to separate them as Hawke jabbed and twisted. He ducked and dodged the onslaught. Miriam twisted and shoved. Using their combined weight she slammed Cullen to the ground. Only then did he begin to fight back.

“ _ Shit-eating bastard!”  _ she spat, raising a bloody fist. 

The whole settlement erupted into chaos. Workers and pilgrims ran for cover, dodging around Araas who stood stock still amongst it all, watching with barely perceptible interest. Scouts in Inquisition issued armor dashed too and fro, searching for the nearest figure of authority that  _ wasn’t  _ currently having their blood splattered onto the stone and snow. 

One scout stopped and addressed Araas, wide eyed and panting for breath.

“You! Please, you have to stop this!”

“I have no interest in involving myself in this.” He said calmly, as Miriam staggered to her feet, having been kicked off the Commander. “The Templar's inability to defend himself is no fault of mine.”

She charged and tackled Cullen’s middle in an attempt to gain new leverage just as he began to regain his footing. Cullen drove his armored elbow repeatedly into her back even as she pushed him off balance against the stone steps. His back hit the stone, and yet again he attempted to throw Miriam off. Gritting his teeth, Cullen threw a left hook into Miriam’s cheek. One hand latched on to her arm just below the shoulder, while the other one grappled with her wrist.

“Araas. . .” Hissera spoke timidly. “I want to leave.”

“I’ll bust your lip  _ again,  _ you nug kissing _ sonuva _ -”

Araas decided that now was the time to intervene. He strode forward, hooking one massive arm around her waist and taking hold of her left arm, taking away the clutch she had on Cullen's throat. Miriam threw her head, clashing her skull against the Templar's upper lip, getting in one last hit. 

Then like a storm, the Seeker was on the scene, flanked by Inquisition soldiers.

“What is the meaning of this?!” she demanded.

“ _ Parshaara kadan. _ ” The qunari said when Hawke began to kick and thrash in his grip, practically frothing at the mouth and still spouting obscenities. He sounded more exasperated than soothing. She was returned to her feet just as the soldiers assisted their commander up to stand.

“He is not worth the full totality of your wrath.”

Miriam shoved her hair back out of her face, still glaring daggers at Cullen. The Commander was too preoccupied with wiping the blood from his face with a handkerchief to return the sentiment.

“Well?” The Seeker demanded. “I have yet to hear of a reason behind this disorder.”

Miriam spat, “I think you already know the answer to that, don’t you?”

The Herald made her harried entrance before the Seeker could come up with a retort. She’d changed into a simple white and gold dress, running into their midst with her skirts in hand and cheeks flushed.

“Oh my stars!” Krystal gasped, taking in both Hawke and Cullen’s black, blue and bloody visages. “Are you two alright?”

She approached Cullen first, healing magic glowing in her hands. The Templar jerked away from her, and while this only riled Miriam up more, Krystal respectfully apologized and dismissed her magic. The healer produced a red vial of healing potion from a small satchel on her hip, gave it to Cullen, then backed away with a slight bow. She came to Hawke next, offering her hands to the Champion.

“May I?” Krystal asked tentatively.

Miriam thrust her thrashed hands into the much softer pair before her. “Yes  _ please _ .”

The Herald smiled, pleased that she could help. As the magic passed over her busted knuckles, Hawke sighed with relief. The healing magic brought a soothing warmth that spread up her fingers, through her arms, and eased the aches and sharp pains littering her body. She could feel cuts sealing, bruises being wiped away, and even a bone in her left hand reforming into one whole piece. Having been friends with Anders for nearly a decade, and having received healing from her sister for years prior to that, she was long used to the sensation of being rapidly repaired.

“Ah, thank you Krystal.” Miriam extracted and examined her hands as the magic receded. She quirked a brow when she noticed that her hand was surprisingly blemish free.

“No scars? That’s some powerful magic you’re wielding.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I usually ask if you’d like me to leave those. I’ll ask next time, I promise.”

“Eh, it’s alright.” She shot another glare over Krystal’s head at Cullen’s retreating back. “I didn’t need reminding of this particular brawl.”

“Come on,” she said to Araas and Hissera now. “Let’s go see the Quartermaster.”

___________________________________

After acquiring their goods, they supped with Bull and the Chargers once more. Gathered around a campfire they all shared stories, hot stew, and, save Hissera and Araas, drinks. When the drinks, stories, and stew began to run out, Hawke, Araas, and Hissera bid the company goodnight. 

Within the next hour they had Hissera’s tent set up against the rockface up the trail from Hawke’s cabin. The couple drew out their stay by making sure that Hissera’s few possessions were arranged just so. When Hissera assured them that everything was more than perfect for her, and they ran out of excuses to linger, Miriam and Araas wished her a goodnight. Even as they walked away, Hawke ensured Hissera knew how unbothered they would be should the teen need anything at all from either of them.

Settling down into her bedroll, pulling up the furs and blanket to stave off the cold until the hot lamp could warm the space up, Hissera finally fell asleep in her own, personal space. It was the first one that she’d had in her entire life.

She found herself alone in Haven. Broad daylight and light snowflakes danced about her, and she laughed briefly as the featherlight flakes chilled her face. 

Dread settled upon her, creeping down her back and settling in dead weight in the pit of her stomach. This was a dream, she knew it.

Was she about to see a possible nightmare future, helpless to change any of the horrors that fell around her?

But, as she sat and watched, she found that it was too quiet here to be any of the futures of Haven that she could recall. It looked more like. . .

“Ah, Solas.” Hissera turned to the elf upon hearing his approach, letting out the breath and tension she’d been holding. “I hadn’t expected to see you in my dreams so soon.”

“You dream very vividly, Hissera.” He said in greeting.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She laughed, swirling her hand through the snow flurries.

“It was intended as such.” He stood next to her, watching as she played in the snow. “You are also able to see clearly, I assume.”

“Yes, but only in my visions, and when I dream in the Fade.” A pause, and then, “Why Haven, Solas?”

“It is common ground for the both of us. Would you have preferred somewhere else?”

“No. I had only feared that I was about to witness a future cataclysm.” She fixed him with her stare then, trapping him with eyes made intense by rich brown eyes surrounded by black sclera.

“Similar to the one I saw when Corypheus tried to open your orb at the Conclave.”

“Ah. . . well, yes. I had come to ask-”

Hissera threw her hands into the air, cutting him off. “ _ What  _ were you thinking? You gave an ancient relic to an undead Darkspawn Magister! What did you  _ think  _ he would do to open it? All those lives lost and for what? Your desire to be in the Fade every moment of your life? Because  _ you  _ think tearing down the Veil will be best for everyone?”

“It. . . wasn’t supposed to be this way. . .” Solas murmured solemnly.

“But it  _ is,  _ Solas!”

“I am here to make it right now. That  _ must  _ count in my favor.”

Hissera sighed, rubbing her brow. “You came to me to ask about what I’ve seen in your future. What do you want to know?”

It was quiet again. They both took the time to compose themselves, Solas organizing his thoughts.

“The orb, where has it-”

“It’s with Corypheus. You won’t be getting it back until he’s beaten.”

“I. . . had feared as much,” The elf sighed, looking out into the Breach that hovered and pulsed above the surrounding mountainside. 

“You know that I am the cause of this,” he continued after a moment. “Can I trust that such knowledge will be safe with you?”

“I can see the future of everyone here, of everyone I meet.” she spoke. “You are not the only one with secrets, Solas. You aren’t the only one wondering if I’m going to tell their story before its proper time, and it’s arrogant to think that you are alone in this.”

She pressed on before he had a chance to voice the indignity that crossed his face.

“You may have had a lonely past, growing up in that village as the only mage. The only one able or wanting to understand the spirits that guided you in your sleep. But you don’t have to be on your own in the waking world anymore. There are good friends to be had here, people who  _ will  _ understand, or at least want to try.”

Hissera fixed him with that stare once again, “But you  _ have to  _ let go of the prejudices you hold. To learn and grow moving forward, you have to open your mind to the unique perspectives and stories of the people you meet. You have a chance to belong, to have people who love you, but you  _ will  _ be humbled before this is all over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my beta reader and I hate how Dalish lore was handled in Trespasser, so Solas isn't Fen'Harel. He's just a normal elf obsessed with the Fade enough to endanger the entirety of Thedas. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	5. Chapter 5

_ Just knock Hissera. The worst you could hear is ‘No’. _

The teen groaned inwardly, hovering by the door to Hawke’s new cabin. Her staff was clutched in both hands, a new nervous habit of hers. The request she had in mind was simple, only requiring a  _ yes  _ or  _ no  _ from the Champion. And yet, Hissera found herself sweating it all out in the early morning snow.

Sucking in a rush of air, puffing out her chest, she raised her fist to knock.

Only to spook when the door unlatched first.

“Imekari?” came Araas’ familiar rumble.

Hissera scrambled to act natural, only failing slightly.

“Oh, good morning Araas. Is Hawke awake?”

“No. She prefers not to wake before noon. Why do you ask?”

“It’s, uh, nothing urgent. Just a quick question.”

“Then ask.”

Hissera blinked.

“A-Are you certain?” She stammered. “I can always come back later, you know? I don’t want to bother.”

“If you have a question, then ask. I am not incapable of providing answers.”

“Oh. . . um,” Hissera straightened, taking a moment to organize her thoughts.

“I'm. . . I’m very grateful for the staff you’ve provided me. I’ve gained so much independence with it all on my own. But there is. . . there’s a lot of fighting right now. . . I don’t want to. . . “

_ People could get hurt if they think I’m defenseless, or if I get in the way. _

The teen took a shaky breath, “I want to defend myself. With  _ this _ . My question was, if Hawke didn’t mind, could she teach me to fight with it? And if she couldn’t, who would she recommend I learn from? I know she’s the Champion and all, so I wouldn't want to bother her if I could avoid it.”

Hissera waited for a reply, but was only met with the quiet of the morning. She could still see the shape of Araas in the doorway, but the silence only grew. She began to apologize, anxiety taking her and telling her that she had insulted him somehow, when the older qunari turned and shut the door behind him. 

_ What did you do?!  _ Screamed that voice at the back of her mind.

She thought of knockin, but no sooner had the idea come to mind than the door swung open. Hissera took a few steps back as Araas ducked out of the cabin, joining her in the morning snow and closing the door behind himself. She noticed that he grabbed a few of his things, as before she had been able to make out the black of his trousers. Now, she could see that he had added the black of his boots and gloves.

“Come imekari.” He called, setting off at a brisk pace away from Haven, further into the woods behind the cabin.

“I will train you.”

Hissera’s jaw dropped. She was  _ stunned _ , but shook it off and was quick to catch up to the sound of his steps in the snow. She had woken up this morning hoping against all hope that she’d be trained by the Champion of Kirkwall. Now, to her amazement, the  _ former Arishok _ was offering to train her.

“Yes ser!”

The air was chilled and crisp, the smell of pine and fresh snow greeting her as she followed hot on Araas' heels. Wind blew through the boughs with a gentle rustle. Araas' heavy boots dug trenches through the powder with muffled crunches, leaving an easy trail for Hissera to walk, and causing the native rams to trot away from the disturbance.

"Your training should have begun immediately upon your arrival here.” Araas spoke as they came upon a clearing. It was frequented by druffalo, if she heard the calls correctly.

“This is no fault of yours. We are your elders, and as such should have taken the task of your instruction upon ourselves. Our experience is without worth should it only benefit the self.”

They stopped a ways into the clearing. Here, the snow seemed to be shallow, the ground less rocky and more even.

"Your staff is not needed." He continued. "We will first focus on your hand to hand combat, then work to incorporate your staff as you progress."

Hissera wordlessly held out her staff to him. He was her instructor now and had kept her best interests in mind so far, and so she trusted him to take this utility away for the time being. Staff in hand, she heard Araas take a few steps to her left to stake the staff into the ground. 

"Assume your stance," he commanded, returning to stand in front of her. 

She assumed he meant how she stood when preparing to fight. Having had to defend herself from the other children in Vinnesen all her life, Hissera already had something to show for it and assumed her stance. Fists raised, shoulders hunched, knees bent, and head down, she waited. Araas rumbled thoughtfully. 

Then, in a single step, he crossed the distance between them. Hissera gasped as he gave a resound shove to her shoulder. 

She stumbled back a few steps, but with her experience, righted herself in an instant, stepping back into her previous stance. 

Again Araas rumbled, this time with approval. 

"You recover well. However," Hands on her shoulders tugged up. "Loosen your stance. The ability to move freely with the moves of your opponent is essential." The toes of his boots tapped the heels of hers. "Widen your feet until they stand beneath your shoulders. This will better ground you."

He took a step away once she had adjusted, then shoved again. This time she moved with his arm, her whole body turning to the side away from the force with ease. 

The teen beamed, returning to the adapted stance. "Woah, I can feel the difference!"

"You learn and adjust quickly," If she didn't know better, Hissera swore that he sounded  _ pleased.  _

"Now," Gloved hands pushed on her elbows. "Relax your shoulders and keep your arms close to your sides. This will protect your ribs and chest." His hands carefully enveloped hers. "Keep your palms open. Your claws will wound you when striking with a closed fist. To use your hands, strike with your heel," Araas took his thumb and spread her fingers up until they curled, exposing her palm. Then, he guided the heel of her hand to hit the palm of his, letting her feel the impact of the move.

"Or, utilize your claws." Pushing his thumb into the center of her hand, her double jointed fingers clicked into clawing position. 

"Breathe, and release the tension you hold. Rigidity will worsen any attack upon you and result in greater injury."

Hissera did as instructed. Breathing in the chill air, she already felt much sturdier, much more likely to be ready for anything. 

From behind her came the unmistakable sounds of Bronx pouncing and flouncing through the snow, yipping excitedly. As he came closer, Hawke's voice quietly ordered the mabari to heel. At that order, all sounds save the dog's heavy panting stopped a few yards behind them. 

"Good morning you two!" Hawke called out. "You look amazing, Hissera!"

The teen took a moment to smile and wave to the Champion over her shoulder. 

The sounds of feet shifting in the snow in front of her brought her attention back to the training at hand. Resuming her stance, she could just make out that Araas had straightened his own posture.

"Strike me." He ordered. "Do not hold back."

For the third time that day Hissera was thrown off by the sudden command. However, she had followed through on those orders without much question so far, and she wasn't about to stop now. A breath in through her nose, out slowly through her mouth, and she lashed out with the heel of her palm. Araas caught it single-handedly, redirecting the force of the blow away from him. 

"Good. Continue to attack. Do as you would in genuine combat, and utilize the full strength of your body in each blow." 

And again, Hissera didn't need to be told twice. Keeping his previous tips in mind, she threw everything she knew at him. Heel strikes. Elbows. Kicks. Driving knees. Whether she aimed high or low, Araas caught each one and redirected it. The elder qunari never moved, no matter how much force she used or where she hit. 

"Excellent. You aim for vital areas, but on a much smaller opponent. Know your adversary, adjust accordingly, and  _ use the full strength of your body. _ "

_ Oh, I'm fighting someone bigger than me for once. _

The teen drew back and took new aim with Araas' stature in mind. Despite the mountain cold, Hissera’s body  _ burned _ . Adrenaline and blood rushed her entirety. Her muscles, unused to being worked to their full potential, ached warmly. The icy air being pulled into her lungs brought dull pain throughout her chest.

But it all served to make her feel so  _ alive  _ and  _ powerful. _

A deep growl from Araas pulled her from the rhythm of the fight. 

"Imekari you  _ still  _ withhold your strength. Your enemy will not hesitate to take this advantage."

"I don't. . ." Panting, Hissera’s bravado took on a tint of frustration. "I'm  _ trying. _ I don't know how I could- "

On the next swing of her left palm, Araas caught it, as usual. This time however, he took hold of her hand rather than redirecting the blow, and yanked her arm across. Hissera spun, and Araas' free hand captured her left horn.

Ice cold fear possessed her. Her burning muscles all seized. All the air was driven from her lungs. The adrenaline that had steadily built up through exercise now constricted Hissera, pure panic pushing her to act on instinct alone.

" _ They will not hesitate, Imekari. _ " Araas reiterated sternly, unphased by the way Hissera thrashed about in his grip. "You are  _ qunari _ . You are  _ strong.  _ In combat you must-"

In the span of a breath, Hissera dropped her weight with a quick bend at the knees. Then, like a compressed spring being released, she drove her body upwards again. In her panic, Hissera put the force of her legs behind the force of her arm behind her fist- 

-And her fist square into Araas' jaw.

Araas jerked back with a shout, releasing Hissera.

The teen stumbled away, burying her face in her hands. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't  _ think _ . 

"Hissera,  _ varda _ ?!" Hawke’s voice was right in front of her. She flinched when she felt the Champion's hands carefully take her wrists. 

"Hey. . . Look at me  _ varda _ . Are you alright?"

Hawke's presence was strangely. . .  _ grounding _ . Hissera slowly lowered her hands. With a quiet gasp she finally noticed the blood smeared across her palms. Four crescent punctures dotted her right palm, bleeding steadily.

"It's okay," Miriam soothed, producing a roll of white bandage cloth. "I came prepared."

As Hawke began to clean and bandage her hands, Hissera sniffled. She heard Araas spit a few feet behind Hawke, followed by the crunch of footsteps approaching them.

"I'm. . . I'm so sorry. Araas-"

Hissera froze as a clawed hand cupped the back of her head, gently pulling her forward to press her forehead against Araas'.

"No. I apologize imekari. I should not have pushed you. The hit was well deserved."

The teen just stood there awkwardly, wondering what exactly was going on until Miriam leaned in. 

"The forehead touch is a Qunari sign of respect." She half-whispered. "It's their version of a handshake or a hug."

Hissera gave a soft  _ oh!  _ and reciprocated the gesture. She pressed her forehead against Araas', their horn ridges bumping as she laughed nervously.

This close, she could make out most of the features of his face. His golden eyes. His broad, flat nose. And the slight, proud smile on his bloodied split lip. 

" _ And  _ what a punch!" Hawke laughed, and so did Hissera. "I haven't seen him take a hit that hard since we fought that dragon in the Bone Pit."

"You have much potential. I look forward to honing your skills." Araas added. "On  _ your  _ terms."

"Now come on. I think you've both earned a break."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Varda" is Assyrian for flower.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact! Hawke's Mabari is named after Bronx the gargoyle dog from Disney's Gargoyles.


End file.
